And so he fledde into the castell, and than cam oute knyghtes and squyars and rescowed sir Launcelot. Whan they behylde hym and loked uppon hys persone, they thought they never sawe so goodly a man. And whan they sawe so many woundys uppon hym, they demed that he had bene a man of worshyp. And than they ordayned hym clothis to hys body, and straw and lytter undir the gate of the castell to lye in. And so every day they wolde throw hym mete and set hym drynke, but there was but feaw that wolde brynge hym mete to hys hondys.
[4] So hit befelle that kyng Pelles had a neveaw whos name was Caster, and so he desyred of the kynge to be made knyght, and at hys owne rekeyste the kynge made hym knyght at the feste of Candylmasse. And whan sir Castor was made knyght, that same day he gaff many gownys. And than sir Castor sente for the foole, whych was sir Launcelot; and whan he was cam afore sir Castor, he gaff sir Launcelot a robe of scarlet “and all that longed unto hym. And whan sir Launcelot was so arayed lyke a knyght, he was the semelyeste man in all the courte, and none so well made.
So whan he sye hys tyme he wente into the gardyne, and there he layde hym downe by a welle and slepte. And so at aftir none dame Elayne and her maydyns cam into the gardyne to sporte them. And as they romed up and downe one of dame Elaynes maydens aspyed where lay a goodly man by the well slepynge.
‘Peas,’ seyde dame Elayne, ‘and sey no worde, but shew me that man where he lyeth.’
So anone she brought dame Elayne where he lay. And whan that she behylde hym, anone she felle in remembraunce of hym and knew hym veryly for sir Launcelot. And therewythall she felle on wepynge so hartely that she sanke evyn to the erthe. And whan she had thus wepte a grete whyle, than she arose and called her maydyns and seyde she was syke. And so she yode oute of the gardyne as streyte to her fadir as she cowde, and there she toke hym by herselff aparte; and than she seyde, ‘A, my dere fadir! now I have nede of your helpe, and but yf that ye helpe me now, farewell my good dayes forever!’
‘What ys that, doughter?’ seyde kynge Pelles.
‘In youre gardyne I was to sporte me, and there, by the welle, I founde sir Launcelot du Lake slepynge.’
‘I may nat byleve hit!’ seyde kynge Pelles.
‘Truly, sir, he ys there!’ she seyde. ‘And mesemyth he shulde be yet distracke oute of hys wytte.’
‘Than holde you stylle,’ seyde the kynge, ‘and lat me deale.’
Than the kynge called unto hym suche as he moste trusted, a four persones and dame Elayne, hys doughter, and dame Brusen, her servaunte. And whan they cam to the welle and behylde sir Launcelot, anone dame Brusen seyde to the kynge, ‘We muste be wyse how we deale wyth hym, for thys knyght ys oute of hys mynde, and yf we awake hym rudely, what he woll do We all know nat. And therefore abyde ye a whyle, and I shall throw an inchauntemente uppon hym, that he shall nat awake of an owre.’
And so she ded, and than the kynge commaunded that all people shulde avoyde, that none shulde be in that way thereas the kynge wolde com. And so whan thys was done thes four men and thes ladyes layde honde on sir Launcelot, and so they bare hym into a towre, and so into a chambir where was the holy vessell of the Sankgreall. And byfore that holy vessell sir Launcelot was layde. And there cam an holy man and unhylled that vessell, and so by myracle and by vertu of that holy vessell sir Launcelot was heled and recoverde.
And as sone as he was awaked he groned and syghed, and complayned hym sore of hys woodnes and strokys that he had had.
[5] And as sone as sir Launcelot saw kynge Pelles and dame Elayne, he waxed ashamed and seyde thus:
A, lorde Jesu, how cam I hydir? For Goddys sake, my fayre lorde, lat me wyte how that I cam hydir.’
‘Sir,’ seyde dame Elayne, ‘into thys contrey ye cam lyke a mased man, clene oute of youre wytte. And here have ye ben kepte as a foole, and no cryature here knew what ye were, untyll by fortune a mayden of myne brought me unto you whereas ye lay slepynge by a well. And anone as I veryly behylde you I knewe you. Than I tolde my fadir, and so were ye brought afore thys holy vessell, and by the vertu of hit thus were ye healed.’
‘A, Jesu, mercy!’ seyde sir Launcelot. ‘Yf this be sothe, how many be there that knowyth of my woodnes?’
‘So God me helpe,’ seyde dame Elayne, ‘no me but my fadir, and I, and dame Brusen.’
‘Now, for Crystes love,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘kepe hit counceyle and lat no man knowe hit in the worlde! For I am sore ashamed that I have be myssefortuned, for I am banysshed the contrey of Logrys for ever.’ That is for to sey the contrey of Inglonde.
And so sir Launcelot lay more than a fourtenyght or ever that he myght styrre for sorenes. And than uppon a day he seyde unto dame Elayne thes wordis:
‘Fayre lady Elayne, for youre sake I have had muche care and angwyshe, hit nedyth nat to reherse hit, ye know how. Natwythstondynge I know well I have done fowle to you whan that I drewe my swerde to you to have slayne you uppon the morne aftir whan that I had layne wyth you. And all was for the cause that ye and dame Brusen made me for to lye be you magry myne hede. And as ye sey, sir Galahad, your sonne, was begotyn.’
That ys trouthe,’ seyde dame Elayne.
‘Than woll ye for my sake,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘go ye unto youre fadir and gete me a place of hym wherein I may dwelle? For in the courte of kynge Arthure may I never com.’
‘Sir,’ seyde dame Eleyne, ‘I woll lyve and dye wyth you, only for youre sake, and yf my lyff myght nat avayle you and my dethe myght avayle you, wyte you well I wolde dye for youre sake. And I woll to my fadir, and I am ryght sure there ys no thynge that I can desyre of hym but I shall have hit. And wher ye be, my lorde sir Launcelot, doute ye nat but I woll be wyth you, wyth all the servyse that I may do.’
So furthwythall she wente to her fadir and sayde, ‘Sir, my lorde sir Launcelot desyreth to be hyre by you in som castell off youres.’
‘Well, doughter,’ seyde the kynge, ‘sytthyn hit is his desyre to abyde in this marchis, he shall be in the castell of Blyaunte, and there shall ye be wyth hym, and twenty of the fayryste yonge ladyes that bene in thys contrey, and they shall be all of the grettyst blood in this contrey; and ye shall have twenty knyghtes wyth you. For, doughter, I woll that ye wyte we all be honowred by the blood of sir Launcelot.’
Than wente dame Elayne unto sir Launcelot and tolde hym all [6] how her fadir had devysed. Than cam a knyght whyche was called sir Castor, that was neveaw unto kynge Pelles, and he cam unto sir Launcelot and asked hym what was hys name.
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘my name ys Le Shyvalere III Mafeete, that ys to sey “the knyght that hath trespassed”.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Castor, ‘hit may well be so, but ever mesemyth youre name shulde be sir Launcelot du Lake, for or now I have seyne you.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ye ar nat jantyll, for I put a case that my name were sir Launcelot and that hyt lyste me nat to dyscover my name, what shulde hit greve you here to kepe my counsell and ye nat hurte thereby? But wyte you well, and ever hit lye in my power, I shall greve you, and ever I mete with you in my way!’
Than sir Castor kneled adowne and besought sir Launcelot of mercy: ‘for I shall never uttir what ye be whyle that ye ar in thys partyes.’
Than sir Launcelot pardowned hym. And so kynge Pelles wyth twenty knyghtes and dame Elayne wyth her twenty ladyes rode unto the castel of Blyaunte that stood in an ilonde beclosed envyrowne wyth a fayre watir deep and layrge. And whan they were there sir Launcelot lat calle hit the Joyus lie; and there was he called none otherwyse but Le Shyvalere Mafete, ‘the knyght that hath trespast’.
Than sir Launcelot lete make hym a shylde all of sable, and a quene crowned in the myddis of sylver, and a knyght clene armed knelynge afore her. And every day onys, for ony myrthis that all the ladyes myght make hym, he wolde onys every day loke towarde the realme of Logrys, where kynge Arthure and quene Gwenyver was, and than wolde he falle uppon a wepyng as hys harte shulde tobraste.
So hit befelle that tyme sir Launcelot harde of a justynge faste by, wythin thr
ee leagis. Than he called unto hym a dwarff, and he bade hym go unto that justynge:
And or ever the knyghtes departe, loke that thou make there a cry, in hyrynge of all knyghtes, that there ys one knyght in Joyus Ile, whyche ys the castell of Blyaunte, and sey that hys name ys Le Shyvalere Mafete, that woll juste ayenst knyghtes all that woll com. And who that puttyth that knyght to the wars, he shall have a fayre maydyn and a jarfawcon.’
[7] So whan this cry was cryed, unto Joyus Ile drew the numbir of fyve hondred knyghtes. And wyte you well there was never seyne in kynge Arthurs dayes one knyght that ded so muche dedys of armys as sir Launcelot ded the three dayes togydyrs. For, as the boke makyth truly mencyon, he had the bettir of all the fyve hondred knyghtes, and there was nat one slayne of them. And aftir that sir Launcelot made them all a grete feste.
And in the meanewhyle cam sir Percyvale de Galys and sir Ector de Marys undir that castell whyche was called the Joyus lie. And as they behylde that gay castell they wolde have gone to that castell, but they myght nat for the brode watir, and brydge coude they fynde none. Than were they ware on the othir syde where stoode a lady wyth a sparhawke on her honde, and sir Percyvale called unto her and asked that lady who was in that castell.
‘Fayre knyghtes,’ she seyde, ‘here wythin thys castell ys the fayryste lady in thys londe, and her name is dame Elayne. Also we have in thys castell one of the fayryste knyghtes and the myghtyest man that ys, I dare sey, lyvynge, and he callyth hymselff Le Shyvalere Mafete.’
‘How cam he into thys marchys?’ seyde sir Percyvale.
‘Truly,’ seyde the damesell, ‘he cam into thys contrey lyke a madde man, wyth doggys and boyes chasynge hym thorow the cyté of Corbyn, and by the holy vessell of the Sankgreall he was brought into hys wytte agayne. But he woll nat do batayle wyth no knyght but by undirne or noone. And yf ye lyste to com into the castell,’ seyde the lady, ‘ye must ryde unto the farther syde of the castell, and there shall ye fynde a vessell that woll beare you and youre horse.’
Than they departed and cam unto the vessell; and than sir Percyvale alyght, and sayde unto sir Ector de Marys, ‘Ye shall abyde me hyre untyll that I wyte what maner a knyght he ys. For hit were shame unto us, inasmuche as he ys but one knyght, and we shulde bothe do batayle wyth hym.’
‘Do as ye lyste,’ seyde syr Ector, ‘and here I shall abyde you untyll that I hyre off you.’
Than passed sir Percyvale the water, and whan he cam to the castell gate he seyde unto the porter, ‘Go thou to the good knyght of this castell and telle hym hyre ys com an arraunte knyght to juste wyth hym.’
Than the porter yode in and cam agayne and bade hym ryde into the comyn place thereas the justynge shall be, ‘where lordys and ladyes may beholde you’.
And so anone as sir Launcelot had a warnynge he was sone redy, and there sir Percyvale and sir Launcelot were com bothe. They encountirde wyth suche a myght, and there spearys were so rude, that bothe the horsys and the knyghtys fell to the grounde. Than they avoyded there horsys, and flange oute there noble swerdys, and hew away many cantels of there shyldys, and so hurteled togydyrs lyke two borys. And aythir wounded othir passynge sore, and so at the laste sir Percyvale spake fyrste, whan they had foughtyn there longe more than two owres.
‘Now, fayre knyght,’ seyde sir Percyvale, ‘I requyre you of youre knyghthode to telle me youre name, for I mette never wyth suche another knyght.’
‘Sir, as for my name,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I woll nat hyde hyt frome you, but my name ys Le Shyvalere Mafete. Now telle me your name,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I requyre you.’
‘Truly,’ seyde sir Percyvale, ‘my name ys sir Percyvale de Galys, that was brothir unto the good knyght sir Lamorak de Galys, and kynge Pellynor was oure fadir, and sir Agglovale ys my brothir.”Alas!’ seyde sir Launcelot, what have I done to fyght wyth you whyche ar a knyght of the Table Round! And som tyme I was youre felawe.’
[8] And therewythall sir Launcelot kneled downe uppon hys kneys and threwe away hys shylde and hys swerde from hym. Whan sir Percyvale sawe hym do so he mervayled what he meaned, and than he seyde thus:
‘Sir knyght, whatsomever ye be, I requyre you uppon the hyghe Order of Knyghthode to telle me youre trewe name.’
Than he answerde and seyde, ‘So God me helpe, my name ys sir Launcelot du Lake, kynge Bannys son of Benoy.’
‘Alas!’ than seyde sir Percyvale, ‘what have I now done? For I was sente by the quene for to seke you, and so I have sought you nygh thys two yere, and yondir ys sir Ector de Marys, youre brothir, whyche abydyth me on the yondir syde of the watyr. And therefore, for Goddys sake,’ seyde sir Percyvale, ‘forgyffe me myne offencys that I have here done!’
‘Sir, hyt ys sone forgyvyn,’ seyde sir Launcelot.
Than sir Percyvale sente for sir Ector de Marys, and whan sir Launcelot had a syght of hym he ran unto hym and toke hym in hys armys; and than sir Ector kneled downe, and aythir wepte uppon othir, that all men had pité to beholde them.
Than cam forthe dame Elayne. And she made them grete chere as myght be made, and there she tolde sir Ector and sir Percyvale how and in what maner sir Launcelot cam into that countrey and how he was heled. And there hyt was knowyn how longe sir Launcelot was with sir Blyaunte and wyth sir Selyvaunte, and how he fyrste mette wyth them, and how he departed frome them bycause he was hurte wyth a boore, and how the ermyte healed hym off hys grete wounde, and how that he cam to the cité of Corbyn.
Now leve we sir Launcelot in Joyus lie wyth hys lady, dame [9] Elayne, and sir Percyvayle and sir Ector playynge wyth them, and now turne we unto sir Bors de Ganys and unto sir Lyonell that had sought sir Launcelot long, nye by the space of two yere, and never coude they hyre of hym. And as they thus rode, by adventure they cam to the house of kynge Brandegorys, and there sir Bors was well knowyn, for he had gotyn a chylde uppon the kynges doughtir fyftene yere tofore, and hys name was Elyne le Blanke. And whan sir Bors sawe that chylde he lyked hym passynge well. And so thoo knyghtes had good chere of kynge Brandegorys. And on the morne syre Bors came afore kynge Brandegorys and seyde, ‘Here ys my sonne Elyne le Blanke, and syth hyt ys so, I wyll that ye wyte I woll have hym wyth me unto the courte of kynge Arthur.”Sir,’ seyde the kynge, ye may well take hym wyth you, but he ys as yet over tendir of ayge.’
‘As for that,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘yet I woll have hym wythe me and brynge hym to the howse of moste worshyp in the worlde.’
So whan sir Bors shulde departe there was made grete sorow for the departynge of Helyne le Blanke. But at the laste they departed, and wythin a whyle they cam unto Camelot whereas was kynge Arthure. And so whan kynge Arthure undirstoode that Helyne le Blanke was sir Bors son and neveaw unto kynge Brandegorys, than kynge Arthure let make hym knyghte of the Rounde Table. And so he preved a good knyghte and an adventurus.
AND NOW WOLL WE TO OURE MATER OF SIR LAUNCELOT.
So hyt befelle on a day that sir Ector and sir Percyvale cam unto sir Launcelot and asked of hym what he wolde do, and whethir he wolde go wyth them unto kynge Arthure.
‘Nay,’ seyde sir Launcelott, ‘that may I nat do by no meane, for I was so vengeabely deffended the courte that I caste me never to com there more.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Ector, ‘I am youre brothir, and ye ar the man in the worlde that I love moste. And yf I undirstoode that hyt were youre dysworshyp, ye may undirstonde that I wolde never counceyle you thereto. But kynge Arthure and all hys knyghtes, and in especiall quene Gwenyver, makyth suche dole and sorow for you that hyt ys mervayle to hyre and se. And ye muste remembir the grete worshyp and renowne that ye be off, how that ye have bene more spokyn of than ony othir knyght that ys now lyvynge; for there ys none that beryth the name now but ye and sir Trystram. And therefore, brother,’ seyde sir Ector, ‘make you redy to ryde to the courte wyth us. And I dare sey and make hyt good,’ seyde sir Ector, ‘hyt hath coste my lady the quene twenty thousand pounds the sekynge of you.’
‘Welle, brothir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I woll do aftir youre counceyl
e and ryde wyth you.’
So than they toke their horses and made redy, and anone they toke there leve at kynge Pelles and at dame Elayne. And whan sir Launcelot shulde departe dame Elayne mad grete sorow.
‘My lorde, sir Launcelot,’ seyde dame Elayne, ‘thys same feste of Pentecoste shall youre sonne and myne, Galahad, be made knyght, for he ys now fully fyftene wynter olde.’
‘Madame, do as ye lyste,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘and God gyff hym grace to preve a good knyght.’
‘As for that,’ seyde dame Elayne, ‘I doute nat he shall preve the beste man of hys kynne excepte one.’
‘Than shall he be a good man inowghe,’ seyde sir Launcelot.
[10] So anone they departed, and wythin fyftene dayes journey they cam unto Camelot, that ys in Englyshe called Wynchester. And whan sir Launcelot was com amonge them, the kynge and all the knyghtes made grete joy of hys home-commynge.
And there sir Percyvale and sir Ector de Marys began and tolde the hole adventures: how sir Launcelot had bene oute of hys mynde in the tyme of hys abcence, and how he called hymselff Le Shyvalere Mafete, ‘the knyght that had trespast’; and in three dayes wythin Joyus Ile sir Launcelot smote downe fyve hondred knyghtes. And ever as sir Ector and sir Percyvale tolde thes talys of sir Launcelot, quene Gwenyver wepte as she shulde have dyed. Than the quene made hym grete chere.
A, Jesu!’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘I mervayle for what cause ye, sir Launcelot, wente oute of youre mynde. For I and many othir deme hyt was for the love of fayre Elayne, the doughtir of kynge Pelles, by whom ye ar noysed that ye have gotyn a chylde, and hys name ys Galahad. And men sey that he shall do many mervaylouse thyngys.”My lorde,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘yf I ded ony foly I have that I sought.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 70